Honbul: Flame of the Soul

Being born gifted did not mean everyone lived the same kind of life. Some people struggled desperately to live as ordinary people, forcing themselves to look away from the fact that they were different from everyone else. But one thing was certain: for the gifted, the path of becoming a Naja was irresistibly appealing.

Here, there was no need to hide. No need to lie. No need to claim they could not see what they plainly saw, no need to exhaust themselves denying what they were. And paradoxically, inside the Office of Narye, everyone became ordinary. That was the biggest reason Han Juyoung—the daughter of a shaman—had decided to become a Naja.

Of course, wanting to become one did not mean just anyone could.

To become a full-fledged Naja, one first had to spend two years training as an apprentice. During that time, the apprentices had to undergo grueling training to learn how to handle their latent ghostly force while also taking on every menial task imaginable. Because of that, more than half of the gifted who entered the Office dreaming of becoming Naja failed to endure the period and returned to civilian life.

Han Juyoung had clenched her teeth and survived those hellish years.

If it was hell here and hell there, then she would rather choose the hell where her abilities were properly recognized and where she could stand beside comrades. That alone had been a blessing beyond anything she had ever dared dream of. Somehow, no matter what it took, Han Juyoung had wanted to seize that chance.

The day she passed the final examination and was formally appointed as a Naja, she had collapsed right there in the lobby of the Office of Narye and burst into loud, ugly sobs. She had cried so hard that senior Naja had stopped in surprise just to stare. Endurance had been bitter beyond words, and the reward had been so sweet it felt as though her tongue would melt. Becoming a quasi-civil servant attached to a state institution and gaining a stable income had only been the bonus.

Han Juyoung was already in her seventh year as a Naja.

There had been a time, back when she was still a rank-and-file Naja, when she seemed to cause trouble every other day. After causing one incident after another and cleaning up after herself each time, she had somehow become a lead Naja, and not long ago, she had been promoted again to senior Naja. Once she reached senior rank, she had even gained the good fortune of being chosen as the department director’s direct subordinate. Han Juyoung no longer wanted for much of anything. Apprentice, rank-and-file Naja, lead Naja, senior Naja, and finally chief Naja. They said human greed knew no end, and of course it would be nice to rise all the way to chief, the highest rank...

But that was beyond her station.

Han Juyoung knew the size of her own bowl. Chief was not a place one reached through effort alone.

“Where is Yoon Taehee right now?”

Yoon Taehee was the chief Naja of Spirit Suppression Unit Team One. He was around the same age as Han Juyoung, who was in her mid-twenties, but even back when she had still been an apprentice, he had already worn the rank of chief—a man more ghostly than the ghosts themselves.

“I’ll check right away.”

Han Juyoung pulled a hand mirror from the back pocket of her trousers. The hand mirror, made by the Ritual Implements Department, was a calling tool every Naja carried. It had been created as a substitute for cell phones due to security concerns. It was mainly used to confirm locations or exchange work-related messages.

As Han Juyoung marked the mirror with practiced movements, her face stiffened.

“Director... Chief Yoon is off duty today.”

Just her luck.

Seok Juryeon pressed a hand to her head. On the face of the mirror Han Juyoung held out, a message floated up indicating that his location could not be confirmed.

“Forget the location for now. Leave an urgent message. Inform him of the circumstances and tell him to move out the moment he sees it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Han Juyoung’s fingers flew over the mirror. While waiting for word from Yoon Taehee, Seok Juryeon pressed hard at her temples against the headache building there.

The modern Office of Narye operated through a system in which each department divided up essential duties, and among them, the Spirit Suppression Unit led by Seok Juryeon was the heart of the Office. It was the department that most literally inherited the meaning of Narye itself: the rite of driving out ghosts. Since it was the department that directly clashed with evil ghosts and other inhuman beings, only Naja with formidable strength were gathered there.

Seok Juryeon herself had once been a chief of the Spirit Suppression Unit, reigning over the field. She had since stepped back from active operations and now commanded the department as a whole, but the Seok Juryeon of old had been, in every sense, a legend. Even now, stories of her exploits were repeated again and again. A brilliant commander sent down by heaven.

That was the awed epithet that clung to Seok Juryeon.

Everyone found her daunting. Everyone admired her.

Han Juyoung, who served at her side, was no exception.

“No.”

“What?”

Seok Juryeon shot her a sharp look at Han Juyoung’s abrupt words. The situation was already going badly, and Seok Juryeon was in an exceptionally foul mood. The moment their eyes met, Han Juyoung flinched and hurriedly lowered her head.

“That’s... what he said back...”

Han Juyoung politely held out the hand mirror.

“I don’t want to.”

Three words.

That was the reply to an order given by Seok Juryeon, whom everyone held in awe.

Seok Juryeon stared at the mirror for a long moment, then started to say something—only to close her mouth again without a word. Han Juyoung lowered her head. It was the first time she had ever seen what kind of expression her superior made when caught off guard.

After a brief silence, Seok Juryeon reached into her bag and took something out.

It was her personal cell phone.

Calmly, she scrolled through her contacts. At last she found the three characters she wanted and pressed the call button immediately. The signal rang two or three times, and then a rich, deep voice flowed from the other end.

“Hello...”

“Chief Yoon. Did you not see the details I sent over?”

Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.

Han Juyoung watched anxiously as Seok Juryeon spoke on the phone.

In truth, Han Juyoung had never really had a proper conversation with Yoon Taehee before. They were both part of Spirit Suppression, but Yoon Taehee was notoriously hard to catch sight of, and by the time Han Juyoung had first entered the Office, he had already been someone far above her. The most she had ever done was pass him from afar a few times in the halls. What she had heard, second- and third-hand, was that he was polite, sensible, and gentle.

At the time, she had believed it.

But from the position of Seok Juryeon’s secretary, what Han Juyoung had personally learned was this—

“Is this a work call? A boss calling on someone’s day off? That’s a complete failure.”

Yoon Taehee was a man with a remarkable gift for getting under people’s skin.

“This is not the time for jokes. Move out immediately.”

“You really are devoted to cleaning up after the higher-ups. All they do is hand out the budget, so why are you worrying so much? When the administration changes, the Prime Minister will change too, won’t he? Just send whoever’s already there.”

Seok Juryeon bit down on her lip and swallowed her anger for a moment.

“Fine, and then what? If funding gets cut off, are you planning to pay all the Naja out of your own pocket until the Prime Minister gets replaced?”

“Of course not. If funding gets cut, I’ll take responsibility and curse them. I’m very good at sending misfortune.”

“Chief Yoon!”

“Why send a chief for something that two or three lead Naja could handle well enough? What a waste.”

“......”

For a moment, Seok Juryeon seemed to lose her words.

Han Juyoung, eavesdropping helplessly from the side, ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) felt exactly the same.

In the end, Seok Juryeon let out a sigh, as if she knew full well what kind of person she was dealing with. She looked far more exhausted than before.

“Taehee.”

“Yes, Director Seok.”

Yoon Taehee answered with perfect politeness. Seok Juryeon rubbed at her forehead and spoke.

“Tell me what you want.”

A laugh came from the other end of the phone.

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Then will you give me leave?”

“For how long?”

“Two months.”

“......”

Seok Juryeon spoke in a measured tone.

“Taehee.”

“Yes, Director Seok.”

“Say something that makes sense. You know Spirit Suppression is short-staffed.”

“So what? It’s only one person missing.”

“Are you doing this on purpose? That one person is not just one person. To replace one chief, I’d need to bring in twenty senior Naja. Don’t talk nonsense.”

“Then for this case, you can send twenty senior Naja instead of me. I need to enjoy my golden day off, so I’ll be hanging up now.”

“Hey, Yoon Taehee—!”

You slippery bastard.

Seok Juryeon barked the words out, fury surging up in her. Han Juyoung watched their quarrel with a strange expression. There was only one person in the entire Office who treated Seok Juryeon with that kind of easy irreverence.

“Why are you shouting? You’ll blow my eardrums out.”

“Fine. Fine, then!”

At last, Seok Juryeon threw back irritably, both hands raised in surrender. Whether he understood the burning frustration in her heart or not, a smooth, cheerful laugh drifted from the other end.

“Wanting to take two whole months off isn’t leave, you idiot. That’s practically a leave of absence.”

“Oh, is it? Then I should file for a leave of absence.”

At that shameless answer, Seok Juryeon let out a deep sigh.

“And why, exactly, do you need two months off?”

By force of habit, Seok Juryeon raised her arm to check her watch. It felt as though half a day had already passed, but in reality she had not even been inside the Office for thirty minutes yet. Any time she dealt with that man, things always ended up like this.

In a word, it felt like aging.

“I need to find someone.”

“Who?”

“My little shadow.”

“What do you mean, your little shadow?”

Seok Juryeon sounded thoroughly worn down. Into her ear, Yoon Taehee whispered with deliberate mischief,

“A pretty, adorable junior who only has eyes for me.”